School Days
by Mello-Matrix
Summary: Matt has an assignment - to write an account about each of his lessons. It's harder to stay on topic than it seems... Rated T for the amount of bad language.


_**A/N: So, hey there guys! This is my first serious (well, non-crack) fic, and it's an idea that's been sitting around for a very, very long time… It was originally an idea I got almost a year ago, and started as a Soul Eater fic… But here we are now! **_

_**Words this chapter: 969**_

_**Enjoyyy~!**_

_**~Mello-Matrix**_

Hnn… I hate tennis. I hate it so bad. I guess it's not so bad when you're sitting around most of the time watching your supposed inspirational figure play instead.

Don't get me wrong, L is a great guy and all that, but he's just not that much to me. I mean, everyone else is obsessed with becoming the next L and shit. I, on the other hand, don't really care. I'd rather work for like, Nintendo or something. Something to do with video games. Or mechanics. Video games mainly, but mechanics wouldn't be too bad…

Anyways, so I'm getting distracted here… I'm meant to be writing about these lessons for some lame project so Rodger can get feedback on what we think of our lessons… Or something. I bet he really doesn't give a crap, but just wants to drive us all up the wall with this. Well, not only am I being driven insane by this (my hand already hurts and I've not even got to the lesson yet), but also by Mello. He's sitting there, yelling at me to be quiet when I'm not saying a word, hunched over his papers muttering, "Must beat Near… Must beat Near…"

Fuck. Distracted again. So… Yeah… Tennis wasn't so bad. At the start of the lesson, Coach told us all to get into partners. No prizes for correct guesses at who my partner was. Of course, it was Mello. Seriously, I don't know why I hang round with him… Well, at least it wasn't that psycho son-of-a-bitch, B. Near was with him. I almost feel sorry for that creepy, albino little faggot. ALMOST.

Then we had to number ourselves in our pairs, number 1 and number 2, at which point, Mello started jumping up and down, screaming "NUMBER 1! NUMBER 1! I MUST BE NUMBER ONE!". Seriously, I have no idea what is wrong with that guy. Or with me, for that point, for still sticking with him. We should go together to see a psychiatrist. And bring B with us. And probably Near too, emotionless little bastard.

Aww fuck it, we all should go for some reason or another, but that paedophile of a caretaker, Rodger, doesn't give a shit. Let us all rot. Whoo.

Anyways, so then, we're attempting to rally. I say "attempting" because… Well, let's face it, shall we? Mello and I can't play for shit. Mind you, neither can Near, so Mello isn't all scary and pissy over it. Thank fucking god. He did get pissy over the coach telling him to take off his Rosary. Same thing every lesson, yet he still tries to get away with it. It's a big-ass rosary, everyone can see it. I can sorta understand though, it was his mother's… Bit like me and my prized goggles, dad got them for me on my last birthday before I came here. He said that they were so that I could protect my eyes when we worked on machinery together, but I wore them all the time anyways.

So you've got us, sadly trying to rally a tennis ball and failing, and eventually, Mello got bored and sick of it, and got pissed off because he was so bad at it. I laughed at him, but stopped when he threw his tennis racket at me. Now I've got a big-ass bruise on the side of my head and it's all swollen… Fuck. It hurts to wear my goggles with this retarded bruise, and I kinda feel lost without them.

Right, so, haven't even got to the interesting part yet, have I? We had a surprise visit from L. Naturally, this didn't mean too much for me… Except for when he started playing a game with Coach. Quite honestly, he was the best tennis player that I'd ever seen – not that I've seen many decent tennis players, but you get my drift.

He thrashed Coach every time they played, and it was pretty good just to sit around watching a game of tennis unfold. L was actually pretty good, and then Mello started fretting that he wasn't good enough at tennis to become L, and just generally having one of his "blonde moments". I sighed, and re-assured him that he didn't need to be some kind of expert at tennis in order to be the next L. He didn't seem to believe me, and went and whined to L anyways. Gee, that guy will never learn…

I'm not sure what L said to him, but he came away all bouncy and happy and shit. I swear that he's fucking bi-polar or something. He yelled that L said that he was better than Near at tennis, and that's sent him totally over-the-moon. Huh. He must have been watching us before he came and played a match against Coach.

So now, I'm sitting here boredly in my room, Mello's hyperventilating and muttering to himself, and I have nothing better to do than to write this piece of rubbish. Mello, being the stupid motherfucker that he is, completely smashed my Gameboy to oblivion. He said it was an accident, but we both know the truth. We also both know that the fact that he said, "Oh, I'll buy you another one, Mattie," is a lie. My PlayStation is also fucked as he spilled a glass of water on it. Huh. Bitch owes me a lot.

…Y'know, looking back at this, I really think I should re-write this. I don't think Rodger will exactly appreciate my "colourful language". Or my tendency to stray off topic. I mean, as I said before, I ain't got anything else to do.

I'll keep this for myself, probably. Heh. Could sell it in the future when I'm all epic and famous and shit. Well, I'd better re-write this now…

_**A/N: Quite a lot of this was based upon an actual Tennis lesson; Mello based upon myself, and Matt on my best friend. xD And when L came and played coach, that was based upon when the IT teacher came and played the teacher… Hehehhh. **_

_**All of the lessons will be based upon actual lessons, so yeah!~ **_

_**Please do leave me a review. Loved it? Hated it? I wanna know! **_

_**~Mello-Matrix**_


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